Every Rose Has Its Thorns
by Deep Fried Cornpuffs
Summary: Teenage spy Alex Rider ends up meeting a few new friends. Well, maybe not exactly friends, more like acquaintances he can't get rid of. But soon he finds they may end up saving his life, and he, theirs. Serious at times, humorous at others!
1. Prologue

Hullo! This is Albi-chan, the author . This is part an AR fanfic I've been creating for several months now. I've already got several chapters written, I just have to tie them all together. I didn't really want to start out with a flashback, but I can't really think of a better way. There might be some moving chapters around and other chaos like that for a while, but please bear with me! I have several pieces of commissioned art of these characters, so I think I'll post them at the bottom the chapters they pertain to I hope you enjoy them as much as I do!

Please review, even if only to you read it! I especially love constructive critism and any of your little suggestions! And although I try to make everything as accurate as possible, there may be some inconsistencies with the real world. Feel free to point any you know out, though I cannot guarantee I'll always change them ;

MANY MANY uberthankies to **Rent-a-Blank**, for helping me out by beta reading!

And without further ado, the prologue!

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It was just another winter day in Moscow. Snowflakes drifted lazily through the cool evening air as the rays from the setting sun glinted off car windows. It was in these idle downtown streets that the man that would soon be known as one of the world's best assassins strolled this particular February night. 

He had removed his suit's jacket and switched to a more comfortable one, one that was easier to move in. That was the important thing. As he passed by a stall with a family of tourists crowded around he felt a small nudge as a young street urchin brushed past. He knew the old pick pocketing trick, but he would have just dismissed it since he didn't carry anything worth stealing. But in a flash he realized his wallet had still been in the pocket of the jacket across his arm. Not that the 500 roubles were worth chasing after the little vagabond. But the papers, they would be difficult to replace.

He took off after the little brown-haired thief, and had shorted their lead drastically by the time they turned into the nearest alleyway. He could see a fence less than ten yards away. He obviously knew their way around. If the thief got over the fence, chances were he wouldn't be able to catch up without revealing his talents to some bystander. And that was _not _what he wanted. This was a last resort.

There was an audible thud as the knife buried itself into the wood side of the building. The pickpocket let out a small cry as his hand was penned against the wood. Yassen, in a movement as quick as a snake, closed in on the young thief and put his hand around his neck. "I wouldn't move that hand of yours. You might damage something beyond repair," he advised. "Now hand over the wallet." The pickpocket just glared at him. Without a second thought, Yassen tightened his grip. The thief struggled feebly and their hat fell to the ground. Once he got a good look at her face, he was sure it was a girl. But there was something odd about her eyes. They were a shade of light blue that was almost purple.

"I- I- ditched it! While- I was- running…!" she choked. Yassen loosened his grip as if to let her go, but she had just enough time to grab a decent breath of air before he tightened his grasp again and slammed her back against the wall. Her head connected with the paneling with a sharp crack. She yelped. "Ok, ok! I have it!!" His hold on the girl's neck didn't loosen. "The shoe!" she gasped. Yassen looked down. He could see the brown leather wallet cleverly tucked under the tongue of her worn out sneaker. Very clever. If she was caught, not many would think to look there. Keeping his hand on the girl's throat, he reached down and took the wallet, placing it in the inside pocket of his jacket.

The young girl was squirming and tugging at his hand with her free one. He released her and the young thief, panting, gently rubbed her bruised neck. "Don't you want your knife back?" she spat at him. Yassen made a quick movement as if to strike her, and she flinched. He chuckled coldly and placed one hand on the hilt of his switchblade and used other to pin her wrist to the wall. In one quick movement he jerked the knife out. She stifled a whimper as the cold steel passed through her flesh. Yassen wiped the blood off the blade and closed it. She attempted to jerk her hand away, but Yassen kept his grip on her hand. "Hey! What the h—"

Yassen moved faster than the eye could follow. The handle of the knife connected with the back of the girl's head. She crumbled to the ground instantly, unconscious.

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The young girl began to stir, slowly regaining consciousness. She blinked several times, trying to clear her head, and propped herself up on her elbows. She was in a nicely furnished room. Judging by the size it was probably a hotel or apartment. She was lying on a couch against the wall with a pillow, but no blanket. There was a man sitting in a chair near the corner. He had put down the book he was reading when she sat up. Although this man also had blonde hair, it wasn't the one from the ally.

"I see you are awake," he stated with a strong English accent. She didn't sense any threat in his voice, but was still wary.

"Who are you? Where am I?" she growled, glancing apprehensively around the room. "What am I doing here?"

He chuckled good-naturedly. "Not so many questions at once. The name's Jones. Where we are isn't important, just that you're still here in Moscow."

She muttered something under her breath. His Russian wasn't the best, and coupled with the accent, she had some trouble understanding his words. He stood. "Now, my good friend Yassen has instructed me to get you all cleaned up, which is what we're about to do. Come on!" Jones motioned for her to stand. She stood hesitantly. "Oh dear! If you go out looking like that the hotel clerk will kill me for sure!" He turned and walked briskly to the table in the middle of the room and opened a small suitcase that lay on top of it. It took several minutes of rummaging before he procured a hooded sweatshirt from the array. "Here." He tossed the hoodie in her direction. "I'm afraid it'll be quite a bit big on you, but I suppose that's just as well."

She winced as she caught it. She just realized her right hand was bandaged and remembered the knife. _Stupid bastard_, she thought to herself_. Little boys shouldn't play with knives. _Catching Jones's slightly inpatient gaze, she pulled on the hoodie. It reached her mid thigh, but at least it hid the rags for clothes underneath. "Alright then, come on. We haven't got all night." She tentatively followed him out the door.

They had made it through the hotel lobby without incidence. That was good. Now they walked along the sidewalk lit by streetlamps as snow continued to fall. It was a cheery scene; people walked by, laughing merrily or talking casually, and the girl couldn't help but look curiously into the lighted shop fronts. Had she gone in this part of town earlier a policeman would have chased her off. Her attention was captured by an ever so soft looking teddy bear in the window that would no doubt be bought by some young parent for his or her fortunate child this Christmas, so she didn't notice when Jones stopped a few steps in front of her.

She quickly jumped back several steps, half expecting him to hit her. She was thoroughly surprised when he merely smiled and held the door open and gestured for her to enter. A cozy barber shop greeted the two as they brushed the snow off their coats. There were no other customers so they were welcomed heartily and quickly had a seat….


	2. An Old Acquaintance

Sorry for the shortness/boredom/wait. School's been killing me recently, but soon it'll all be over and I hope to update every two weeks or so. Thanks for sticking with me!

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Alex Rider found himself following his parents' killer through the streets of Southern France. It was meant to be a simple vacation; a week at the beach with Sabina. But now it was twisted into something horrific. The warm summer air he had been enjoying minutes before had turned cold and seemed to press on him from all sides. Seeing the assassin here, of all places, ruined any happy feelings Alex had managed. _Why was he here? And why, oh why, had he decided to follow him?_ He could turn around now, but Alex couldn't stand the thought of coming this far to turn back. Perhaps Yassen was just here on a vacation like himself, and he could go back to enjoying the tropical sun, his fears dismissed. But, of course, that wasn't what happened at all.

From his hiding spot behind a street stall, Alex ducked as Yassen glanced warily over his shoulder. Alex watched him walk across the jetty to an expensive looking yacht. Was it his? He thought not when he saw a portly, bald man in an expensive white suit walk out on deck to greet him. Soon a third man joined them from the cabin, a tanned and rather dimwitted looking deckhand. Several minutes passed, but yet they still continued to converse. Alex, finally able to think rationally, tore himself away from the trio and headed back to the café where he had left Sabina. There was no evidence Yassen was here to kill someone. And whoever it was, Alex was sure it wasn't going to affect him.

He was dead wrong.


	3. Bomb Threat

Ok, I promise we'll get to the action soon! The next chapter should pick up the pace, and it'll get better from there!

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Alex couldn't remember much from the past few hours. Still images kept running through his head, his disoriented mind barely able to string them together. Sabina, running inside to meet her parents. Dancing orange flames, rising up against the sunset that had been so beautiful seconds before. A deafening boom that left his ears ringing. Blue and red flashing lights. The loud, unceasing wail of sirens. Everything that belonged in an action movie back home in Britain, one he and Sabina could have gone to see together. But of course, there was one big difference. In the movies, everyone's always ok, the bad guys get caught, and everyone goes back home safe, sound, and happy. But everyone knows those things don't always happen in this game we call life.

He was snapped out of the flashback by a young police officer who seemed almost as shocked as Alex himself. Alex felt positive the worst crime this young policeman had ever seen was probably shoplifting or DUI. Who would have thought something this big would have happened in such a small, quite French town? None of the officials here had signed up for the action, that was for sure. The young policeman awkwardly offered his condolences before handing him a warm styrofoam cup of almost tasteless coco. Alex sipped at it for no other reason than it gave him something to do. But no matter how hard he concentrated on the swirling of the brown liquid or how the steam rose up and dissipated into the cooler night air, he could still see the smoldering shell that had been his friend's summer home from the corner of his eye. In his determination not think on the recent tragic events, he diverted his attention to his sneakers. He knew the moment he let his guard down, the moment he allowed his mind to wander back to the past hours, his emotions would overflow.

He noticed a small charred scrap fluttering on the patched ground that would have gone normally unnoticed. A light breeze kicked up and sent it floating upwards, where Alex caught it. He opened his cupped hands and saw the letters "IEN CR" printed neatly in all caps, with smudges that looked like more writing below. But before he could begin to decipher more the glowing edges closed in and the scrap of paper curled into black ashes. Alex closed his fist and slowly let the ashes trickle between his fingers. What had been written on the paper? He remembered Sabina's dad had been a journalist, and he was obviously working on an important story, as he had declined their offers to spend the day at the beach or go to the movies and instead spent the majority of the vacation inside at his desk. But of course, this could have just been part of this morning's newspaper. Alex was sure if he could find what the letters meant he would know. There wasn't a doubt they were part of larger words, but after ten minutes of mulling it over and over in his mind, Alex couldn't think of anything that fit. He glanced up and saw a fireman pulling a charred but not completely ruined suitcase of the Pleasure's luggage out of the ashes. Then it hit him. Shock had numbed his mind, but in an instant suppressed emotions came bubbling to the surface. Grief was certainly one thing he felt, but now it was accompanied by rage. Until then it hadn't registered in his stunned mind, but now it finally clicked. There was no way the explosion was caused by a gas leak as the police speculated. But who would want to get rid of a visiting journalist and his family?

The same man that had been prowling the jetty earlier.

Yassen Gregorvich.


	4. More Backstory

My brain is fried x_x; I haven't really managed to get anything as far as the main plot written, so you get more backstory XD Oh joy!

(This is continued from the prologue!)

* * *

_...When they exited, she was finally beginning to look like she belonged here. He hair was a clean, glossy golden blonde and thought it was still short, it was at least neatly trimmed. Jones rushed her along the sidewalk to another building. Once they entered she could tell by the interior this one was a department store. "Alrighty," he said. She was slowly getting used to his irritating accent. "You're all cleaned up, so now all you need is some new clothes…"_

_As if just finding the children's section wasn't challenging enough, neither of the two had been shopping for children's clothes before. It had been an awkward trip, but they got through it somehow. Soon enough she had at least a week's worth of clothes, and made their way to the front of the store. The girl cringed when the cashier announced the total. Jones saw this and chuckled, ruffling her hair as he pulled out several bills from his wallet. They each grabbed one of the bags and headed back to the hotel._

_The room was empty when they entered. Jones motioned for her to sit down on the couch, so she did. "Can you read?" he asked, offering a brightly colored magazine. She shook her head. "Oh, too bad then. I'm afraid there's not much for you to do then." But now that he thought about it, hadn't she read one of the signs in the store? That was odd._

_She had been about to doze off when suddenly she heard the door open. She turned to see who it was, and it was the blonde man from earlier. She glared at him, but kept her mouth shut for the time being. He didn't even spare her a passing glance as he pulled up a chair across from Jones. The two began speaking in a language she didn't understand, but she guessed it was English. She stared disinterestedly at the carpet until someone spoke her name._

_She glanced up, it was the blonde man who had spoken._

_"What's your name?" he asked flatly, glancing at her. She was startled by his perfect, unaccented Russian. "Tashya," she answered him._

_"Don't play games with me," he snapped. She couldn't help but let her surprise show on her face. How could anybody see through that lie? Jones looked at the other man and chuckled. He said something to him in the same language he had been speaking earlier, but the other man's only response was a slight smile._

_"Katya," she answered stiffly, meeting his gaze. He seemed satisfied with this answer._

_"How old are you?" was his next question. She hesitated._

_"Nine, I think," she replied. "I never celebrated my birthday," she gave as an excuse. He nodded._

_Jones turned to him. "Don't you think that's a bit young, Yassen?" he asked. The man named Yassen just chuckled._


End file.
